


Words Unsaid (Need to be Spoken)

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5x12, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar!Ian, Boys Being Boys, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Day 3 - Alternative S5 Ending, Feedback appreciated, GW2016, Ian tries to break-up, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mickey doesn't let him, Mickey's accent thickens when he's angry, Public Display of Affection, Season 5 Episode 12, Sick!Ian, Southside Rules, Straddling, broken!Ian, mentions of bipolar disorder, slight exhibitionism, support the insecure author, up to season 5 only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich finally learns to use his words because that's where he's fucked up in the past, and most of all it's what Ian needs. </p><p>(Or: the one where Mickey does a lot of talking to Ian and overcomes his emotional constipation for the sake of the one he loves most)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Unsaid (Need to be Spoken)

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 to my GallavichWeek2016 Series. Day 3 - Alternative S5 Ending. 
> 
> I admit this was hard to write because I still haven't watched Shameless as a whole. I'm a fan because of how the writers were able to craft Gallavich to be a painfully believable couple that I don't normally see on TV. Their story is wonderful thing. As for this story, I've watched the break-up scene over and over again to see where/what Mickey could have done differently or if Sammi never showed up. This is what I came up with, and I really hope that you like it.
> 
> **Not Beta Read. Open for Volunteers.**

“Too much is wrong with me, and you can’t do anything about that. You can’t change it. You can’t fix me because I’m not broken. I don’t need to be fixed, okay? I’m me,” Ian says, and he looks like he’s about to cry as he walks away.

Mickey wants to cry to when he realizes where this conversation is going.

‘ _This is it_ ,’ he thinks in his head. He doesn’t say anything at the fear that his voice might break. This is end end—of them, for them. It’s just done. This is Ian breaking up with him. ‘Really?’ his traitorous mind asks, because after everything they’ve been through, gone through, went through, _this_ is how they end?

It hurts like a motherfucker.

They don’t say anything.

Ian turns back to face him, staring at him, waiting for him to speak and fuck-up, and _just accept it_.

‘Fuck this,’ Mickey thinks.

He’s Mickey fucking Milkovich; he ain’t nobody’s bitch.

It takes a long time for him to say anything at all. Ian’s face is passive and empty and dead. He’s got that brooding look in his eyes that tells Mickey that he’s thinking of something incredibly dumb and depressing again. All Mickey wants to do is wipe that expression off and never see it again. He knows that it’s a lost cause to even try—not in the near future.

Ian shakes his head slightly. It’s a small, barely there, gesture but Mickey sees it as clear as day. Something inside him snaps. The nest thing he knows, he’s swinging his fist in a hook and catching Ian squarely on the jaw. Ian collapses onto the Gallagher house steps with a look of pure dazed confusion in his eyes.

At least it’s better than nothing being there.

Mickey goes down with him, on top of him, legs straddling Ian’s hips and hands pinning Ian’s wrists. It just might be the most intimate they’ve been with each other in broad daylight for their neighborhood to see—but to the unwitting town it looks nothing more than a scuffle between two guys. For them though, it’s another world entirely.

Ian stares up in sudden fear.

For a second, Mickey thinks he sees thirteen-year-old Ian again with his tire iron back in his old bedroom at the Milkovich house, but he’s back at the Gallagher steps an instant later. Ian isn’t moving, but at least he isn’t struggling too much to make this hard for Mickey.

The thing is, Mickey _wants_ Ian to struggle, he wants Ian to _react_ , to move, to _feel_ something, anything. He’ll take anything at this point as long as Ian responds to him. God knows how long they stay like that—exposed and open, and Mickey finally breaks.

“Talk, damnit, you goddamn fucker!”

Ian doesn’t. He merely closes his mouth tighter than ever. There’s a bruise blooming on his jaw, dark and angry, just like how Mickey feels. It boils inside like a festering wound. Mickey can’t take it. He might not like this Ian but it’s _his_ Ian, and he’s learned his lesson before. This time, he’s not letting got.

He grips Ian’s wrists tighter and begs quietly, “Come on, man, you used to have such a fucking motor-mouth, can’t you just fucking talk to me about what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“That’s not me anymore, Mick,” Ian says, and it might just be the most honest thing he’s said to Mickey after coming back from the mental institution. “I’m not sure who I am anymore.”

They stay like that for a very long time. Mickey thinks that he might be the one sick in the head for hitting a crazy person, but then Ian starts to melt under his touch in an all-too familiar way, in a way that he hasn’t relaxed in forever. Ian lets go, going pliant underneath Mickey, and lets all the tension out of his body.

Mickey relaxes too. “Okay,” he says in a whisper.

Ian blinks in confusion. “What?”

Mickey moves up but not off. He releases Ian hands but sits on the redhead’s lap. Fuck anyone who can see them. Ian’s the most important thing right now. “I said okay, you, fucker. It’s your head, your rules, but we ain’t doing it your way.” Ian opens his mouth to retort but Mickey slaps a hand over it, with a warning look in his eyes. “We do this _our way_. We talk, s’all I’m asking, ayy?”

“Talk?” Ian looks at Mickey as if the brunette grew two heads.

“Ayy, didja hit your head and knock something lose when you fell down, Gallagher? We talk. You. Me. We talk about this shit going through you, then we figure out a way to fix it—together, ayt? If you don’t wanna take your meds then I won’t force ya. It’s your life, your body, your head, but you’re still _my_ boyfriend, got that? I don’t get a say over all of it but I want you to _give me_ a say, ayt?”

Ian moves up to his elbows, face filled with bewilderment. “Mickey, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Mickey takes a deep breath and says it. “I love you, stupid, didn’ja hear me the first time? All the courthouse bullshit about getting’ married like two queens. I want to if you want to but I know you ain’t ready for that shit. But one day, I’ll wait, until you’re ready, ayt? I’m here. I’m stayin’. This is me askin’ you, Firecrotch, to stay with me. Look, man, I just wanna be with ya, ayt? Meds or no meds. Crazy or not crazy. It’s some fucked-up playing house shit or whatever. You’re it for me.”

Ian really doesn’t have any words to say. He leans up, reaches around and wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist, burying his face in Mickey’s chest, smells the sweat and lack of body wash, and feels like coming home at long last.

“Mickey,” is all he says, as he clings to the older man.

They’re still on the Gallagher steps for all of the neighborhood to see. It’s a testament in itself that Mickey hugs back and pulls Ian to his chest tightly, as if afraid that the redhead will run away and disappear _again_. He holds Ian’s head in the circle of his arms and buries his nose in Ian’s slicked back hair. He never wants to let this go, never again.

“I love you,” he finds himself whispering, “the old you, the new you, you’re you. I don’t care shit if you’re scared or confused. We’re together, and I love you, Ian, goddamnit. I love you. How many times I gotta say it for you to understand it?”

“I don’t know, shit, Mick, I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, Firecrotch,” Mickey promises with a kiss on Ian’s temple, “We’ll figure it out together just like we always do, ayt? ‘Cause you’re right. We can’t fix shit that ain’t broken, and you ain’t broken, man, just lost. We’re gonna find out way together. You and me. No take backs. No returns. This shit ain’t no thrift store crap.”

Ian noses Mickey’s shirt, with a small chuckle. “Okay,” he says, nodding, “Together than. You okay with being stuck with my crazy pasty freckled ass, Milkovich? Think you’re tough enough to handle it?”

Mickey pushes Ian away so that he can see Ian’s eyes. Green meets blue, and he grins, because they’re no longer dead. They’re shining, and brilliant, and alive. He smiles then, praying to some higher power to give him strength for what he plans to do next.

“I’ll fuck your military ass up if you think I ain’t tough enough, Gallagher,” he says, crashing their lips together in a kiss that’s sloppy and wet and real. It’s their first real kiss since Ian ran away, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. He thinks there’s faggy-ass fireworks behind his eyes.

It’s not some fairytale-end bullshit, or anything shit like that.

To Mickey, it’s their beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading your comments for the past two fics. Thank you to everyone who's been kind enough to leave me some words of encouragement. Writing's been a bit difficult for me lately and I don't understand why. I hope it's not my own mental health sliding down somewhere that I'd rather not be. This fandom, in particular, has helped a lot since I relate with the characters. That being said, it's been a struggle to keep them in character but still show the progression through five seasons of Shameless (US). Gallavich has taken up a special space in my heart just because they are so relatable and _real_. They're the couple that you want to see survive against all the things thrown in their way by life, and makes me hope that everybody has a chance at love.  <3
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~
> 
> As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).


End file.
